Awakened love: The Duke's Reborn Bride

The King's voice carried across the great hall from the raised dais-steady, composed, yet very touched with an uncommon gentleness. Every word was deliberate, leaving no room for doubt. "I want to hear from you." Abigail Dale stood perfectly still, not a word. In that single moment, clarity struck her like lightning. She had returned. Reborn. Back to the year she turned seventeen. Today was the royal banquet. Officially, it was called a "family gathering." In truth, everyone knew better. The king had summoned her for one reason alone. He intended to decide her marriage, with his own words. Abigail parted her lips but no sound came out. A storm of emotions surged through her chest, tightening until her throat hurt. Heat burned behind her eyes, blurring her vision. "You need not be afraid." When she failed to answer, the King’s voice softened even further. The Dale family has served the crown for generations. Your father, uncles, and brothers… they all gave their life for the kingdom of Avalon on the battlefield.” A pause. “And now, only you remain.” His gaze rested on her, steady. “I will personally see to your marriage. No matter who you wish to wed, I will make it happen.” Even after living through it once-after dying and returning-just the name of her family made Abigail’s heart ache. The Avalon Kingdom had not stood for long. Less than a century. Its roots were shallow, its enemies many and its future uncertain. Last year, the horsemen from the Southern Region had shattered the kingdom’s borders. The Dale family had been sent north to defend it. She still remembered the day they left. Her father, her uncles, her older brothers. Laughing. Teasing her. Full of life. So loud she found them unbearable. And when they came back… they came in coffins. Wrapped in torn, blood-soaked cloaks. Her aunts and sisters-in-law scattered. Some returned to their parents’ house. Some remarried. Her mother, crushed beneath grief, fell ill and passed away at the start of the year. The once lively Dale Manor was left with only Abigail. The King had called this a “family gathering.” But everyone understood. This was his way of honoring the fallen Dales. By marrying off the last surviving daughter. A soft laugh suddenly broke the heavy silence. “Why even ask, Father?” A girl’s voice rang out, light and teasing. “Everyone knows Abigail is Hopelessly in love with Aldric. She’s never exactly been subtle.” Princess Cassandra Valmont. The King’s most favored daughter. Abigail's fingers tightened slightly at her sides. In her previous life_ Cassandra had said these exact same words. Back then, Abigail had turned crimson, lowering her head in shy embarrassment at the mention of Aldric Valmont—the Crown Prince. The King had laughed heartily. “Then it’s settled,” he had declared with a wave of his hand. We’ll choose an auspicious day. You and Aldric shall be married.” And she believed it. Believed that effort could win affection. She had poured herself into that marriage. Every detail of the wedding. Every preparation. She told herself that if she tried hard enough… he might notice her. Might care. But on their wedding night, Aldric had shut her out. He wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t even let her near his bed. By morning, Abigail was still there, curled up on the cold stone floor. There was no warmth, no intimacy, and definitely no heir. At first, the King and Queen pitied her but overtime, that pity turned into disappointment. The entire Crown Prince’s Wing adjusted accordingly. Without favor… without a child… Abigail became invisible. Servants no longer bothered to hide their disdain and she endured it all silently. Until one day_ She overheard him. Aldric was speaking with a close companion about her. Only then did she understand. Everything she had suffered, he had known. Or worse, he had allowed it. “She forced me to marry her,” he said. “Now she’s getting what she deserves.” His companion hesitated. “But Aldric, she is beautiful. She truly cares about you. Do you really feel nothing for her?” Aldric didn’t pause. “She disgusts me.” The world had gone silent. Cold. I forced you? Is that what you believe? It was his father’s decision. If he didn’t want , why didn’t he say so? Why take it out on her? In that entire farce, the King was praised as benevolent. The Crown Prince gained favor and Abigail… she alone paid the price. What had she done to deserve it? The grief clawed at her so violently she thought she might be sick but nothing came. Her eyes burned but no tears fell. Numb, she went to him. She stood before him, lowered herself into a formal bow, and asked for their marriage to be dissolved. Aldric, who had always been indifferent, snapped. Without warning, he grabbed a cup and hurled it at her. Abigail didn’t move. The porcelain struck her temple and blood ran down her face. For a brief moment, he looked startled as if he might stand. Instead, he clenched his jaw. “There’s no need to act pitiful.” He refused. For days he ignored her completely. And then, without explanation, he agreed. On the eve of their separation, Abigail stood in those chambers and realized… She felt nothing. There was not a single thing she wanted to take. In the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Married at seventeen. Four years later, she was hollow, pale, worn thin, eyes empty. At least she would be free. She fell asleep that night and woke again. At seventeen. Perhaps even the heavens had taken pity on her. “Oh?’ The King’s voice pulled her back the present. He looked thoughtful. “She likes Aldric?” “Yes,” Cassandra replied with a playful smile. “Abigail is completely smitten. She’s always baking pastries for him and bringing then over herself. Once she hurt her hand, but insisted it didn’t hurt at all. Though I ended up eating most of them.” A few quiet chuckles ripped through the hall. “And not long ago,” Cassandra continued lightly, “when Aldric lost his favorite pouch, he was in a terrible mood. Abigail even came to ask me what kind of pattern he preferred. She wanted to make it for him.” As she spoke, Aldric’s brows slowly drew together. To him… this was nothing but an unwanted burden. Around the hall, more and more eyes turned toward Abigail. Curious and amused. Abigail felt nothing. The King laughed. “So, you like him that much? You grew up together. It must be mutual then. In that case, I shall arrange the betrothal myself-“ “Your Majesty.” Her voice cut cleanly through the hall. The King turned. “Hmm?” Abigail’s eyes were faintly red but her voice steady. She stepped forward and lowered herself into a deep, formal bow. “I did grow up alongside His Highness,” she said clearly. “But I have always regarded him with respect.” She paused then continued, each word calm and precise. “I have never harbored any improper feelings toward him.” Silence fell. Though she couldn’t see it, Aldric’s brows tightened even further. The King frowned slightly. “Are you certain?” Abigail knew him too well. If she did not name someone, he would not let this go. “I have long since admired the duke of Ashnoor.” A faint ripple moved through the hall. “If I may become his wife…” She lifted her head slightly. Her eyes were clear and steady. “…then I would have no regrets in this life.”